


Old Ghosts

by audrarose



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-23
Updated: 2008-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:28:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audrarose/pseuds/audrarose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The TW scooby-gang goes to Scotland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, thanks, thanks to [](http://luzdeestrella.livejournal.com/profile)[**luzdeestrellas**](http://luzdeestrella.livejournal.com/) and [](http://astrothsknot.livejournal.com/profile)[**astrothsknot**](http://astrothsknot.livejournal.com/) for the brilliant beta and Brit-picking help. Glengoyne all around, y'all. :D 

"Scotland's full of ghosts. Crawling with them," Martha said, shifting on the back seat of the SUV between Ianto and Rhys. Ianto pressed himself closer to the window and wondered again why someone half his size apparently needed twice his space.

“And I've always thought that was sort of the point," Martha continued.

"Of Scotland?" Gwen sounded appalled.

"Well, that and single-malt," Martha said.

"Don't forget trout," Rhys added.

"Oh, of course, how could we," Martha said, sounding unconvinced.

"Tell me why I'm in the back seat again?" Ianto asked, staring out the window at the rocky hills that rolled away from them in what he considered to be rather an excess of wild beauty.

Stunning, really. If you liked that kind of thing.

He stole a glance at Jack, whose own wildly beautiful eyes were fixed grimly on the road before them. Ianto stifled a sigh. Apparently, he did.

"Because I'm the only one who can read a map," Gwen said from the front seat, answering a question Ianto had almost forgotten he'd asked. She bent her head over the folded pages in front of her. "With the GPS on the fritz, I get to play mum."

"And since this is obviously a family trip..." Ianto muttered, leaning his chin on his fist.

"No worries. I'm just here for the trout," Rhys said, his eyes closed and his head tilted back against the seat. "Feel free to exorcise at will. I won't be in your way."

"So with all the ghosts in Scotland, why are we concerned with this particular one?" Martha seemed to be trying to bring the conversation back to the reason they were barreling through the dusky Scottish countryside in the first place.

"It's started killing people," Jack said, sounding grim. "When amorphous spirits start taking out the locals, I get suspicious. And you forgot 'kilts'."

With that he floored the SUV up the curving drive, approaching the arched entryway at a truly frightening speed and then squealing into the courtyard, lurching to a stop with an almost festive spray of gravel and loose rock. There was a moment of stunned relief where no one moved followed by a coordinated dive for the doors.

Ianto practically fell out of the SUV and stopped himself from kissing the ground with some difficulty. Instead, he tried to gape casually at the giant stone edifice in front of him.

"Well, it's obviously... old," Martha said, voice subdued.

"It's stood here for 600 years." Jack's gaze was far-away, the sharp lines of his face somehow softer in the murky evening light. Though Ianto had spent the last eight hours trying to see anything other than Jack, he couldn't help but look. "Storms and wars and generations come and gone, yet here it is."

"And we get to spend the night in the old pile," Rhys said, sounding resigned. "What're the odds of there being hot running water, d'you think?"

"I'm crossing my fingers for indoor plumbing a little more recent than the garderobe," Martha said.

"I thought it was chifferobe," said Gwen.

"Just unload the car," Jack said, turning to them, his mouth hard and his voice clipped. "Our hosts have already vacated, so Martha, you get over to the morgue and find out exactly how our victim there died. The rest of you, get inside and spread out."

They all looked at each other.

"And do what, exactly?" Gwen asked after Jack's retreating back.

"Find the ghost," he said over his shoulder as he ran up the steps, coat swirling around his legs. He shook his head as he walked through the door, as if their thickness were beyond his comprehension.

Gwen turned on Ianto. "What have you done with Jack?"

"Don't you mean 'What hasn't he done with Jack'? Otherwise we're going to be here 'til Thursday," Martha said.

Ianto hunched his shoulders. "Why do you assume I've done something?"

"Well, you're the obvious suspect. He's acting odd," Gwen went on. "And he won't look at you. Didn't you notice?"

Of course he hadn't noticed. He'd been too busy not looking at Jack himself. "I wouldn't know any more about it than you do."

"Old Captain Jack not much for the pillow-talk, is he?" Rhys asked. He opened the boot of the car and rummaged around among the cases.

Ianto felt hunted. "That's something of a personal question. And anyway. We're not... like that anymore."

That stopped Gwen dead, and Martha and Rhys paused in the act of pulling equipment out of the car.

"He called it quits?" Gwen demanded. "When did this happen?"

"Earlier," Ianto said, feeling vaguely insulted. "And for your information, I did the calling. Or...the quitting." He waved at the air. "Whatever."

"You did." Gwen was looking at him with deep skepticism.

"Yes," he said pointedly. Unfortunately, he couldn't hold her stare. "It was sort of unintentional."

"You mean you broke it off with him by accident?"

 

**

Earlier

"Ianto." Jack stopped him as he was about to follow Gwen and Martha out the door of the conference room.

"Sir?" The word came out cooler than he'd intended, but he decided to leave it.

Jack's smile matched Ianto's tone. "Do I sense a problem with the job here? Scotland not to your liking?"

"Why wouldn't I be looking forward to eight hours in a car? With Rhys, too, apparently."

"They're newly-weds. I'm not entirely heartless." Jack refused to be side-tracked. "I just thought you seemed disturbed. Maybe I interrupted your plans? Got a hot date planned for tonight or something?"

"You know I don't." Ianto tried not to sound sullen.

"I don't know anything of the sort, actually. I have noticed that you haven't...stayed late. Lately." Jack sounded more curious than concerned, and that just made it worse, because Ianto hadn't stayed late and he didn't even know why. Not once since Tosh and Owen, but he couldn't even point that out because just the thought made his throat hurt.

"Sort of pointless, isn't it?" Ianto asked, instead. "All of it. Even if I wanted a date, wanted to see someone outside of... this, what would I say to her? About any of this?" About us, he thought.

"No one's keeping you in this, Ianto. It's always been your choice." Jack's words were evenly stated, his expression serene as he turned away to push a pile of papers together.

"What kind of choice --." Did Tosh have. Or Owen. Or Lisa, God, Lisa, and how terrible was it that he hadn't thought of her in months.

"Choose to stay, choose to go. I can't help you there." Calm blue eyes studied him.

Of course Jack couldn't help him. Distant, untouchable Jack. Ianto swallowed. "Maybe we should. I don't know. Stop."

"Ah." There was a moment when Jack's smile seemed to freeze and his eyes went just a little dead, but then it was gone just as fast as it had come and Jack was leaning back in his chair. "Fine. If that's what you want."

"Fine," Ianto said, and it shouldn't have been that easy. "Good." He felt like he was strangling. It shouldn't have been that hard, either.

Jack stood and let Ianto walk ahead of him out the door of the conference room.

"I just hope you can put off trolling the bars for a few days. Duty calls." Jack looked around the Hub. "I look good in Scotland," he told the room at large. "I brood so well there; I think it's the light. Okay, pack it up, people. We're out of here in twenty."

 

**

 

Shaking off the memory, Ianto looked up as Jack stepped out of the castle entryway. His expression was cold and angry, the very picture of an avenging angel or a spoiled child or whatever persona he'd chosen to put on that morning with his overcoat.

And he really did look good in Scotland. The bastard.

"Anytime you'd like to join me, feel free," Jack announced. "It's not like anyone's actually died or anything. Oh, and if you feel like bringing some glimmer of competence along with you, that would be fine, too." He turned back through the looming doorway as they all stared after him.

"Stranded in a crumbling pile of rocks with Jack off on one. Lovely, Ianto. Thanks so much," Gwen said, arms crossed.

Ianto stared at the place where Jack had been, and then turned back to the car. "I should have kissed him good-bye," he said.

 

**

Three hallways past the point where he'd gotten lost, Ianto found Jack.

Not that he'd been looking. He'd actually been wandering the halls with a steadily increasing sense of panic, torn between shouting "Here, ghost," and searching desperately for a bed to crawl into.

Or hide under.

By this point, he didn't care. The dim hallways in this part of the castle were shockingly narrow, seemingly made entirely of cold stone and echoing footsteps, and completely hung over with a pervading sense of being watched that made Ianto's shoulders crawl.

So it was a relief to find Jack, even if seeing him alone made Ianto's chest tight, and he attempted to find an expression that conveyed affable indifference. He quickly realized he didn't need to bother, though, because Jack was paying no attention to him. He just stood in the center of the hallway with his face turned toward the ceiling high above, where a cold light was shining down and casting shadows over his features.

"So I take it the thing's not from around here," Jack said, and it took Ianto a second to realize that he'd walked in on the middle of a conversation.

The light above them was cold but the directionless breeze drifting over them was colder, and Ianto shivered when a voice like winter came from a face hidden high in the shadows. "New to this world," it said. "Not new to all worlds. Older than I am." There was a long pause. "Older than you are."

"Yes. Well, thanks for the information --" Jack began, but the voice interrupted him.

"All of them gone. My family. My children. Years, ages gone and you remain."

Jack froze, his face gone motionless and still, carved in marble, carved in ice. "Yes," he said, finally, the words slightly strained.

The voice continued on absently, sounding strangely forlorn. "It's only minutes that we have them, isn't it? It doesn't matter how much we love them, how fast we hold onto them. In the end, all we have are minutes."

Then came a sense of grief like soft rain, falling over Ianto in a gentle wave; not his alone, but overwhelming all the same, bringing sense-images of Lisa's arms and Tosh's smile and Owen's wretched sarcasm, too. All the minutes he couldn't hold and would never get back, all the pictures fading around the edges that he could only stare at and tell himself to remember, remember, remember.

He stood there in the silence and felt his face streaked wet; stood there until Jack shifted from ice back to flesh and bone and whispered, "I know. I'm sorry."

One last finger of icy air crawled over Ianto's neck, and then the hallway was dark, Jack looking back at him as if he was surprised to find him there.

Ianto swiped at his face. "What. Was that."

Jack blinked. "A ghost."

"But -- but --," Ianto stuttered, pointing to where the light used to be, and Jack turned away.

"Not the ghost. Obviously. A ghost."

"So you stopped to chat?" Ianto still felt out of breath, out of sorts, and the words sounded like a challenge. For once Jack didn't take it up.

"She remembered me," he said, instead. For a moment he had an expression that was ineffably sad, giving Ianto just a glimpse before he turned away.

Automatically, Ianto reached out to touch him, because he always wanted to touch Jack; it wasn't like changing the rules would alter that one immutable fact. His fingers closed over Jack's shoulder, the familiar curve of bone and muscle and warm skin sliding beneath his shirt.

"Are you all right?" Ianto asked.

Jack stilled, body tensing beneath Ianto's touch for long seconds where neither of them moved. He could feel Jack breathing, feel the seconds spiral out, and suddenly, Jack was turning; moving blindingly fast and stepping in close so that Ianto had to keep backing away until the wall stopped him. Then Jack was just there, solid body and darkened eyes and dear God, the scent of him, like sunlight and vanilla and mint and sex. All Ianto could do was close his eyes and breathe him in.

And wait for a touch that didn't come, because Jack left inches between them, the smooth plane of his cheek so close to Ianto's, he'd barely need to turn his head to rub against him. When Jack whispered, Ianto could feel the warmth of his breath slip over his ear.

"I am trying to do what you want," Jack said, sounding almost fiercely pleasant. "In fact, I'm trying really, really hard, here. So if you would stop reminding me that I can't touch you anymore, I would appreciate it."

When Jack stepped back, Ianto tried not to sag against the wall.

"I think Martha might have missed something at the morgue," Jack said, voice disturbingly calm as he pulled the lapels of his overcoat straight. "If I'm right, we're in more trouble than I thought. Find the others," he said, turning to walk away. "Stay together. And find that ghost."

**

"Should we hold hands?" Martha asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ianto looked up from the single candle glowing on the floor, and shifted uncomfortably. His sleeping bag wasn't nearly enough protection against the cold of the stone flooring, and his tailbone was already beginning to ache. "Must we?"

"Oh, for --." Gwen snatched his hand where he'd rested it on his leg and then made a grab for Martha's. "Didn't you ever have séances with your friends back in primary school?" She nodded toward them both. "Go on, then. Complete the circle."

Ianto let Martha take his other hand and sighed. "And now?"

"We summon." Gwen closed her eyes and turned her head toward the ceiling far above. "Oh, spirits of -- wait a minute, where are we again?"

"Hell," Ianto said.

"Drummond Castle," Martha replied, elbowing Ianto hard.

Gwen cleared her throat. "Oh, spirits of Drummond Castle, we call upon you! Show yourselves!" She paused. "If you'd like. Please?"

"Do you suppose that's ever worked?" Martha asked, after a few minutes of silence. "Ever?"

"Perhaps if you two helped we might make more progress," Gwen hissed. "They probably sense your skepticism."

"Dead guy wasn't skeptical enough, apparently." Ianto muttered.

"Well, that's helpful." Martha said.

"Oh, he's still sullking because he and Jack called it off," Gwen said to Martha.

"Yes, it's the vapors." Ianto dropped their hands and sat back, propping himself on his elbows to study the candle gloomily. "And you make it sound as though we were picking out china patterns." He didn't have the energy to sound indignant. "It was just... shagging." He warmed to the idea. "Yes. Exactly that.. lots and lots of shagging and now it's not. And so the story ends."

He looked up from the candle to find both Gwen and Martha grinning at him, conspiratorial and waiting. "What?"

"Well? What's he like?" Gwen asked.

"It's over, you said so yourself," Martha said, before Ianto could argue. "It can't hurt to give us a few details now. Beyond 'dabbling'."

"Yes, honestly, I have to know; does he wake up looking like that?" Gwen asked.

At those words an image flooded him: Jack lifting his head, his eyes half-lidded and his mouth curved in a sleepy, sated smile. So real he could almost feel it, Ianto remembered the weight of Jack's body, smooth skin and heavy limbs, draped over him like a blanket. From there it was only a flicker of thought to heat and motion and the liquid slide of their bodies together, the absolute fucking perfection of it now completely out of his grasp by his own stupid mistake.

"Just one detail?" Gwen wheedled.

Ianto sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, staring at the candle again. He scrubbed a hand through his hair.

"He tastes like oranges."

There was only silence in response, though Gwen patted his shoulder for a moment. Ianto found the tight squeeze of her chilled fingers oddly comforting.

Then they all looked up in alarm.

"Did you hear that?" Martha asked.

 

**

 

By the time Jack found them, it was almost too late.

If the specter in the hallway had been a ghost, then this creature of ice and darkness was a demon, coming down on them and bringing a frozen hell with it. Nothing to fight against, nothing to resist, as the candle guttered out and the cold slammed down and left nothingness behind.

Minutes of it, maybe. Then like a miracle there was light and heat and Jack with something that spat flame and red light, and then the... thing was gone, dead if it hadn't been already, darkness torn to shreds leaving breathless silence behind.

It was long minutes before Ianto could move, his spine still made of ice, and he hadn't even taken the worst of it. That had been Martha, now shivering to pieces in his arms with Jack's fingers beneath her chin, unable to put two words together without her teeth chattering out of her head.

"Steady, you'll be all right," Jack told her, though his gaze was on Ianto's, lingering briefly before flicking down over his body, checking for damage, searching for breaks. Ianto felt warmer immediately.

"What. Was that." Ianto asked, for the second time in as many hours, thought this time he was trying to keep his jaw from shaking so he wouldn't bite his tongue.

"Chrythid," Jack answered, sounding almost cheerful. "From the Void. They live in the dark matter, as far as we can tell, but they're extremely susceptible to fire. I think your candle pissed it off." He patted the gigantic barrel of the alien laser-cannon Ianto remembered stowing in the SUV. "Lucky I remembered the flame thrower."

"Lucky," Ianto agreed, his voice hoarse.

Martha moved off into the blanket Gwen was holding, but Ianto didn't budge from his spot on the floor.

Jack turned back to him, inquiring. "You okay, there?"

"Is that what it's like?" Ianto asked, hating the question, but wanting the answer. "Afterward? Just the Void and cold and... nothing?" Was that what it was like for Tosh, for Owen? For Lisa?

Jack sighed a little, a huff of breath smelling of citrus that Ianto wanted to lean into. "Maybe not for everyone," he said, with a quirk at the side of his mouth that tried to be reassuring.

Ianto stared up at him. "You can lie to me," he said, finally. "That would be fine."

He might've thought he'd imagined the brief brush of Jack's fingertips over his cheek, if they hadn't left blessed warmth behind.

"I never want to do that."

**

They decided to leave at dawn, he and Martha and Jack, while Gwen stayed behind with Rhys and the trout.

There were birds singing, a soft chirping through the mist as they took in the view one final time. Martha huddled into her jacket, looking none the worse for wear except for a lingering tendency to shiver.

"It really is sort of beautiful," Ianto said.

"I'm dreaming of palm trees, but you should keep this place in mind," Martha said to him. "It's perfect for brooding. For the next time you accidentally break it off with someone." She straightened. "I'll be in the truck." With that, she turned and left them alone on the balcony.

Jack immediately turned to Ianto, blazing accusation. "Accidentally?"

"Well...it was definitely inadvertent. And.. and you didn't seem terribly broken up at the prospect, you know," Ianto said, feeling defensive, and as if they were picking up a conversation they had just left off.

"So you decided to just go with it and see what would happen?" Jack asked him, one eyebrow raised. "Very mature, Ianto. Very mature."

"Yes, well, obviously I bow before your centuries of emotionally stable relationships." Ianto crossed his arms.

Jack tilted his head at that, considering, then shrugged, as if to say touche. They both stared at the mist beginning to burn off over the fields.

When Jack spoke again, his voice was much softer. "All we have are minutes. No matter how tight we hold. Whether you gave me just a few of them or an entire lifetime, what difference would it make?" He might not have been speaking to Ianto. His voice sounded as old as the stone beneath his hands. "I'd still have the rest of forever."

Without you. The words went unspoken, but Ianto heard them anyway.

Ianto studied Jack for just a second, then made his decision. He moved in close, slid his hands over the hard lines of Jack's jaw and up into his hair. Right before Ianto kissed him, the years fell away, Jack's eyes going wide and vulnerable like maybe they'd been before all his ghosts took up residence there.

So Ianto just closed his eyes and opened his mouth over Jack's, feeling him hesitate for just a moment before leaning back into the wall and taking Ianto with him, urging Ianto to lean into him just like he always did. It was invitation and seduction, but it was supplication, too; Ianto could see that now. It left Jack so open that Ianto was almost frightened for him. He gathered Jack close.

When he ended the kiss, Jack's smirk was back.

"I'm getting some mixed signals, here, I have to tell you," Jack said.

Ianto shrugged, but he pulled Jack closer. "I think I can afford to give you a few minutes."

Jack closed his eyes. When he smiled, it was sad. "I should just let you go right now, shouldn't I?" he said.

"Maybe. But you won't," Ianto answered. And he knew Jack wouldn't, not with the way Jack's arms were locked tight around him, not with the way Jack's shaky breath brushed over his ear. Ianto shifted so Jack was leaning into him, for once.

"No," Jack said. "Not right this minute."

END

All comments greatly appreciated, either here or [at my orginial journal post](http://audrarose.livejournal.com/135195.html?page=2&cut_expand=1#cutid1). 


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